Chương 1247: Chapter 38: Finally Arriving at the Mu Family

Yang Dawei's expression was a mask of thunderous gloom, yet beneath that facade, a tempest of regret surged through his soul. Had he known the depths of Reyn's monstrosity, he never would have provoked this youth. But the bridge was burnt, and the path behind him had collapsed into ash; they were now mortal enemies. Even knowing Reyn was a thorn that could draw blood, Yang Dawei had no choice but to sharpen his resolve and walk into the storm. Beside him, Xing Tianxie's pupils contracted into needlepoints.

His gaze remained locked on the solitary figure standing amidst the ruins of the martial arena, a cold dread pooling in his gut.

"This man... is a bottomless abyss," he whispered to himself, the weight of Reyn's presence pressing against his own cultivation like a mountain. Even Mu Shen, the venerable arbiter, could not hide the flicker of shock in his eyes. He looked at Reyn with a newfound, piercing intensity. To possess such overwhelming power at the mere age of eighteen was not just talent—it was a freakish anomaly that defied the natural order.

Mu Shen nodded inwardly, a strange, calculating light dancing in his gaze as he evaluated the potential of this rising star.

"In this challenge, Qing Huo of the Purple Mist Sect has been defeated," Mu Shen announced, his voice cold and echoing like cracking ice. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the crowd, radiating a chilling pressure.

"Within the Mu Family's martial arena, life and death are governed by the heavens. No vendettas or retaliatory strikes shall be permitted hereafter. Any who dare violate this decree will face the full weight of our clan's wrath!" His final words were a jagged blade aimed directly at Yang Dawei. The threat was unmistakable.

"Rest assured, Venerable," Yang Dawei replied, his face twitching as he forced a submissive bow. As the leading figure of the Purple Mist Sect's younger generation, he knew when to retreat.

"Qing Huo's skills were inferior; we will not engage in such folly." Yet, in the deepest recesses of his eyes, a murderous intent flashed like a hidden viper. He paused, then cupped his hands again.

"Venerable Mu Shen, we accept the loss. However, Qing Huo's personal effects are treasures of our sect. I ask that you preside over their return." Mu Shen did not answer immediately. He turned his gaze toward the arena.

"Reyn, are you willing to return his belongings?"

"Venerable, I am not," Reyn replied, his voice flat and uncompromising. He did not even look at Yang Dawei.

"Qing Huo was a Foundation Establishment cultivator who suppressed his aura during the initial testing to bait me into this duel. He came here with the singular intent to murder. Had I been the one to fall, would the Purple Mist Sect be so charitable? I stand alone from the North Yue State; who would have reclaimed my soul?" He stepped forward, his aura flaring.

"A life-and-death duel is a gamble where the stakes are everything. I won. His life and his treasures are now mine by right of blood. Why should I hand them back to those who sought my end?" The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Mu Shen nodded slowly, the logic of the cultivation world siding with the victor. Yang Dawei's heart hammered against his ribs; he didn't care for the mundane trinkets, but the Thunderclap Walnut was a strategic asset they could not lose.

"Venerable!" Yang Dawei interjected desperately.

"The Thunderclap Walnut was a gift from our Sect Leader to his daughter. It was merely in Qing Huo's temporary keeping. It must be returned!" Reyn let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Temporary keeping? Every cultivator here saw him attempt to detonate that walnut to erase me from existence. Now it's a 'loan'? If you want it back, Yang Dawei, I'll give you one chance." Reyn's eyes turned into shards of black glass.

"Step onto this arena. We fight, here and now. If you win, you take everything from my corpse. If you lose, I take your life and your treasures as well. Do you accept?" Yang Dawei froze. The air grew heavy. He looked at Reyn's calm, lethal posture and felt a shiver of genuine terror. If Reyn used that Thunderclap Walnut against him, he wouldn't survive.

"This is not over," Yang Dawei hissed, backing down.

"The Purple Mist Sect will collect this debt in full another day." Mu Shen watched the exchange with a hint of approval for Reyn's steel.

"Enough. Follow me to the Teleportation Hall. I shall open the array and send you to the Holy Land." Within the grand hall, Mu Shen's expression turned solemn. A dozen Mu Family cultivators moved with practiced precision, slotting high-grade spirit stones into the ancient grooves of the floor.

"Activate the Holy Land Array! Feed the stones! Rise!" The runes on the floor ignited with a blinding, azure brilliance.

"This array was carved by the Ancestor himself," Mu Shen shouted over the hum of power.

"It carries twenty at a time. Go! Once you arrive, the guides of the Holy Land will direct you." The group stepped into the light. With a roar of spatial energy, their forms blurred and vanished. Once the hall was empty, Mu Shen dismissed his subordinates. He pulled a blank jade slip from his robes, pressed it to his forehead to record a clandestine message, and flicked it into the air. It transformed into a streak of light, vanishing toward the inner sanctum.

"An eighteen-year-old with the Divine Sense of a Golden Core master..." Mu Shen whispered to the empty air, his own form flickering and fading into the shadows. On the other side, a kaleidoscope of colors assaulted the travelers' senses before the world snapped back into focus. They stood upon a massive plaza, spanning thousands of feet, dominated by eight pulsing teleportation arrays.

"Haha, Fellow Daoist Yang, it has been half a year. I trust you have been well?" A refined youth in purple robes, wielding a folding fan with effortless grace, drifted toward them. Yang Dawei's gloom lifted slightly.

"Daoist Zi Luanxing! I have missed our conversations. We must drink tonight."

"Indeed," Zi Luanxing smiled, though his eyes shifted toward Xing Tianxie.

"Greetings, Daoist Xing." He then turned his curious gaze toward the green-robed youth standing slightly apart from the group.

"And who might this be? And where are Qing Huo and Daoist Mo?" Yang Dawei's face darkened instantly.

"I will explain later." Xing Tianxie ignored the tension, turning instead to Reyn with a rare, respectful smile.

"Brother Reyn, would you care to journey with us?"

"Yes, Big Brother Reyn, come with us!" You'er added with a playful grin. Reyn considered it for a moment, then gave a curt, decisive nod. As they walked away, Zi Luanxing's brow furrowed, his eyes lingering on Reyn's back, sensing the shifting tides of power.